11-13-2016, 10:34 PM
Ballad remained completely silent, allowing every one of his unlikely allies to say their piece on the matter. Scarecrow was, predictably, over-the-top and extravagant, his crackling voice causing more and more bits of the cave to fall down on top of them. He took a moment to glance up to the darkness above, letting out a small grunt as a pebble flew past his nose. He bit his lip; any more noise like that would surely cause the entire cave to collapse right on top of them.
Koal, on the other hand, was far more subdued, at least when compared to the Fear Doctor himself. He had grabbed hold of the offending individual, hissing in a soft but menacing tone. Almost immediately, a short brawl had almost occurred between the two persons, only stopped by Koal’s insistence that he wanted Ballad alive. What for was unknown to him, but SPB had already gone to work deciphering his intentions. As far as he was aware, something had happened to Koal between the time he had sent him to Coruscant and the present, most likely having to do with the boy’s apparent memory loss. He could almost imagine the anger that the kid would surely have when he would discover he not only didn’t have an answer for him, but SPB himself wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He had looked back towards him as he moved up to him, his eyes glowing white with pity before control was wrested away from him.
Finally, the last of his allies was the small child herself, Chara. Her speech was much more personal than everyone else’s, though seeing as how she was more than willing to share it with complete strangers mere moments earlier, he could only assume she did this more from child-like innocence more than anything else. And besides, this was the Omniverse. He had already met two other strange kids, one a brat and the other a gigantic tentacle monster. It must have been Omni’s way of making it up to them for removing them from their homes and whatever families they had. She, too, had moved up along with him, knife and lantern in hand. Scarecrow himself followed soon after, brandishing his needle gauntlet.
The sharpshooter quickly looked to the people around him. Complete strangers, perfectly willing to risk their lives for someone they could just as easily had given up to them. Hell, they probably could have just back-stabbed him, and share in the spoils. But, here they were, weapons drawn, snarls on their faces, and itching for a fight. It was… strangely ironic, in a sense, the gunsmith decided.
Of course, with the talking done, the ringleader of the whole operation against him, Kuzuru, had to keep it going. Couldn’t let the idea of a quick kill satiate his bloodlust, now could it? As he spoke, the green gunner clamped his teeth together, small puffs of smoke bellowing out from the sleeves of his winter coat. The only thing that kept him from popping right then and there was the sudden removal of the man’s jacket, revealing a set of incredibly thick biceps underneath his greasy wife-beater shirt. His eyes trained on them for a few moments before rising back up to the man’s eyes. It was clear to everyone within in the room; the man WAS strength, and it was the kind not even the gunsmith could emulate. Not that he’d ever admit that, though.
Then, as the man paused in his speech, two blades popped out from the underside of his arms, causing Ballad to visibly cringe before the man finished it off with his question. He remained silent, though it wasn’t of recollection or pondering this time. Rather, it was the only way he could keep himself from letting loose a tirade of insults and curses at the outlandish, psychopathic, and just plain disgusting excuse for a being that formed the demon of Kuzuru. Here he was, having just gotten done celebrating his lack of regard for basic human and non-human existence and having proved to the shade-possessed man that he absolutely CRAVED adrenaline of some kind, and having the GALL, the sheer NERVE, to try to compare himself to the gunner? To say that he was somehow BETTER than him because he was willing to admit to himself he was a cold-blooded killer?!
Yes, he had killed. He was more than willing to admit that to himself. But NONE of the deaths had been because he had ENJOYED IT. He had NEVER killed because he just FELT like it at the time. He ALWAYS killed when left with no other option, and the few other times where that wasn’t the case were the times he was willing to admit he had fucked right up.
But never, in the history of ANYTHING, was he a psychopath. He WASN’T a killer!
He was just about to lunge forward to tear the demon apart when a hand grabbed his coat. It was Chara. The white glow of her lantern illuminated the area around her, showing that practically EVERYONE was chomping at the bits at each other, particularly Koal and the girl with the black construction rifle. He kept his mouth shut, practically biting his tongue in half as he looked to see what the small child wanted.
The kid gave a few small glances from her lantern, to the ground in front of the Ashen Blades. At first, he stared at her like she was a fucking idiot, but it slowly dawned on her just what she meant. He nodded before looking to his left, seeing Scarecrow was nodding as well. He did not catch the conversation between Dawn and Koal.
What he DID catch, however, were the words of Ascension, the giant genocidal machine. He had completely forgotten the thing was there, which somehow made it even more frightening to the military recruit. Any fear he might have had for the machine, however, was replaced by an biting urge to tear it apart along with everything else in the vicinity. The reasons made ALL the difference! Why would manslaughter and murder exist, then, if there was no distinction? And besides, what difference did it make? The thing was a machine BRED FOR WAR AND GENOCIDE! What basis did it have to criticize him for making excuses when its very PURPOSE is to kill?
Despite all of that, however, the thing had a point. He looked away from Ascension, closing his eyes to hide the rapidly increasing brightness of them from everyone else around him. He kept them closed all the way until the machine had left them all, leaving the room in complete silence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reopened his eyes. They were glowing so bright they could have practically blinded everyone in front of him, and yet despite this, he still maintained the demeanor that SPB wanted, speaking as politely and as slowly as he could.
“In completely earnestness, I had originally believed I might have been capable of presenting a cogent argument as to my innocence and provide many a reason as to why my death would be more harmful than beneficial,” he said, his eyes darting from Kuzuru to Dawn in an alternating order, “but with everyone having publicly announced their intentions… I can only come to the conclusion that the individuals standing in front of me are nothing less than hypocritical, self-righteous, completely and utterly reprehensible excuses for beings I have had the displeasure of meeting face-to-face.”
He took a quick look back to the leader of the SoSV, Scarecrow, seeing that their eyes had met for more or less the first time since they met. He was giving a slight nod. They were ready. He looked back to the Blades. All of them were preparing for the inevitable fight, reloading weapons, brandishing blades, and just waiting for an excuse to charge forward and end them all right then and there.
The gunsmith looked past them, seeing the cliff face just a short run away from him. Below that was the abyss the guitar had fallen into. His hand began to reach down towards his hand-pick; a plan was already forming within his head.
The demon’s eyes lit aflame once more, the familiar voice of Agern sounding out from his mouth. “You’re going to pay dearly for what you have done, Ballad,” he said, advancing forward.
He glanced down to Chara. She nodded, her grip tightening on the lantern.
“Attack!” shouted Scarecrow.
A split second later, the form of the small child had flickered in and out of existence, teleporting right in front of the advancing Blades. She then smashed her lantern against the ground, glass shards flying all around as the light that had given them all sight promptly disappeared.
The gunsmith was already running by the time the light went out. He slid towards the cliff face, whipping out his hand-pick as he began to fall off of the edge. As he fell, he slammed his pick into the side, slowing down as he descended into the darkness below.
Koal, on the other hand, was far more subdued, at least when compared to the Fear Doctor himself. He had grabbed hold of the offending individual, hissing in a soft but menacing tone. Almost immediately, a short brawl had almost occurred between the two persons, only stopped by Koal’s insistence that he wanted Ballad alive. What for was unknown to him, but SPB had already gone to work deciphering his intentions. As far as he was aware, something had happened to Koal between the time he had sent him to Coruscant and the present, most likely having to do with the boy’s apparent memory loss. He could almost imagine the anger that the kid would surely have when he would discover he not only didn’t have an answer for him, but SPB himself wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He had looked back towards him as he moved up to him, his eyes glowing white with pity before control was wrested away from him.
Finally, the last of his allies was the small child herself, Chara. Her speech was much more personal than everyone else’s, though seeing as how she was more than willing to share it with complete strangers mere moments earlier, he could only assume she did this more from child-like innocence more than anything else. And besides, this was the Omniverse. He had already met two other strange kids, one a brat and the other a gigantic tentacle monster. It must have been Omni’s way of making it up to them for removing them from their homes and whatever families they had. She, too, had moved up along with him, knife and lantern in hand. Scarecrow himself followed soon after, brandishing his needle gauntlet.
The sharpshooter quickly looked to the people around him. Complete strangers, perfectly willing to risk their lives for someone they could just as easily had given up to them. Hell, they probably could have just back-stabbed him, and share in the spoils. But, here they were, weapons drawn, snarls on their faces, and itching for a fight. It was… strangely ironic, in a sense, the gunsmith decided.
Of course, with the talking done, the ringleader of the whole operation against him, Kuzuru, had to keep it going. Couldn’t let the idea of a quick kill satiate his bloodlust, now could it? As he spoke, the green gunner clamped his teeth together, small puffs of smoke bellowing out from the sleeves of his winter coat. The only thing that kept him from popping right then and there was the sudden removal of the man’s jacket, revealing a set of incredibly thick biceps underneath his greasy wife-beater shirt. His eyes trained on them for a few moments before rising back up to the man’s eyes. It was clear to everyone within in the room; the man WAS strength, and it was the kind not even the gunsmith could emulate. Not that he’d ever admit that, though.
Then, as the man paused in his speech, two blades popped out from the underside of his arms, causing Ballad to visibly cringe before the man finished it off with his question. He remained silent, though it wasn’t of recollection or pondering this time. Rather, it was the only way he could keep himself from letting loose a tirade of insults and curses at the outlandish, psychopathic, and just plain disgusting excuse for a being that formed the demon of Kuzuru. Here he was, having just gotten done celebrating his lack of regard for basic human and non-human existence and having proved to the shade-possessed man that he absolutely CRAVED adrenaline of some kind, and having the GALL, the sheer NERVE, to try to compare himself to the gunner? To say that he was somehow BETTER than him because he was willing to admit to himself he was a cold-blooded killer?!
Yes, he had killed. He was more than willing to admit that to himself. But NONE of the deaths had been because he had ENJOYED IT. He had NEVER killed because he just FELT like it at the time. He ALWAYS killed when left with no other option, and the few other times where that wasn’t the case were the times he was willing to admit he had fucked right up.
But never, in the history of ANYTHING, was he a psychopath. He WASN’T a killer!
He was just about to lunge forward to tear the demon apart when a hand grabbed his coat. It was Chara. The white glow of her lantern illuminated the area around her, showing that practically EVERYONE was chomping at the bits at each other, particularly Koal and the girl with the black construction rifle. He kept his mouth shut, practically biting his tongue in half as he looked to see what the small child wanted.
The kid gave a few small glances from her lantern, to the ground in front of the Ashen Blades. At first, he stared at her like she was a fucking idiot, but it slowly dawned on her just what she meant. He nodded before looking to his left, seeing Scarecrow was nodding as well. He did not catch the conversation between Dawn and Koal.
What he DID catch, however, were the words of Ascension, the giant genocidal machine. He had completely forgotten the thing was there, which somehow made it even more frightening to the military recruit. Any fear he might have had for the machine, however, was replaced by an biting urge to tear it apart along with everything else in the vicinity. The reasons made ALL the difference! Why would manslaughter and murder exist, then, if there was no distinction? And besides, what difference did it make? The thing was a machine BRED FOR WAR AND GENOCIDE! What basis did it have to criticize him for making excuses when its very PURPOSE is to kill?
Despite all of that, however, the thing had a point. He looked away from Ascension, closing his eyes to hide the rapidly increasing brightness of them from everyone else around him. He kept them closed all the way until the machine had left them all, leaving the room in complete silence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reopened his eyes. They were glowing so bright they could have practically blinded everyone in front of him, and yet despite this, he still maintained the demeanor that SPB wanted, speaking as politely and as slowly as he could.
“In completely earnestness, I had originally believed I might have been capable of presenting a cogent argument as to my innocence and provide many a reason as to why my death would be more harmful than beneficial,” he said, his eyes darting from Kuzuru to Dawn in an alternating order, “but with everyone having publicly announced their intentions… I can only come to the conclusion that the individuals standing in front of me are nothing less than hypocritical, self-righteous, completely and utterly reprehensible excuses for beings I have had the displeasure of meeting face-to-face.”
He took a quick look back to the leader of the SoSV, Scarecrow, seeing that their eyes had met for more or less the first time since they met. He was giving a slight nod. They were ready. He looked back to the Blades. All of them were preparing for the inevitable fight, reloading weapons, brandishing blades, and just waiting for an excuse to charge forward and end them all right then and there.
The gunsmith looked past them, seeing the cliff face just a short run away from him. Below that was the abyss the guitar had fallen into. His hand began to reach down towards his hand-pick; a plan was already forming within his head.
The demon’s eyes lit aflame once more, the familiar voice of Agern sounding out from his mouth. “You’re going to pay dearly for what you have done, Ballad,” he said, advancing forward.
He glanced down to Chara. She nodded, her grip tightening on the lantern.
“Attack!” shouted Scarecrow.
A split second later, the form of the small child had flickered in and out of existence, teleporting right in front of the advancing Blades. She then smashed her lantern against the ground, glass shards flying all around as the light that had given them all sight promptly disappeared.
The gunsmith was already running by the time the light went out. He slid towards the cliff face, whipping out his hand-pick as he began to fall off of the edge. As he fell, he slammed his pick into the side, slowing down as he descended into the darkness below.
Quote:Annnnnnd that's all, folks! The fight officially begins! Good Luck!
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